


As you love her, as you wish

by just_your_biology



Category: The Princess Bride - Simon Morgenstern, Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, I'm using a lot of direct quotes just fyi, feel free to read if you haven't seen the princess bride, it's a princess bride au!, minkowski has WAY more agency than buttercup oc, take a guess whos wesley, the characters fit this really well, this is so fun to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-09 10:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15265326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_your_biology/pseuds/just_your_biology
Summary: Renee Minkowski and Isabel Lovelace once lived happily together. After Lovelace gets (allegedly) murdered by pirates, Minkowski swears she will get revenge. Sadly, this involves marriage to Goddard's prince, Cutter. Also, Hera has her own revenge quest, Eiffel's an engineer, Kepler's trying to start a war, and Jacobi and Maxwell are miracle workers.





	1. Outpost life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theantepenultimateriddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/gifts).



The life of Renée Minkowski was a quiet one. At least in these days, it was. At a scientific outpost in the far-flung regions of Goddard, the only things other than work to do were stargaze, hunt, ride horses, and swabble with her second in command, Isabel Lovelace.

Minkowski admired Lovelace, that was certain. But though the captain was brave, loyal, smart, and knew how to keep her head in a crisis, how headstrong, impulsive, and quick to retort she was made her little short of insufferable to Minkowski. The two spent much of their days and nights in the station’s laboratory, charting the stars and watching their movements through the sky, as the seasons changed and the women tossed jokes, insults, and orders back and forth.

Today, however, the station was quiet as the hours went by, only the scratching of Minkowski’s pen and the sounds of the wind outside. The night before, the women had gotten into a heated debate about the most effective way to arrange a nautical fleet into battle (they both had previously served in Goddard’s navy), and the only thing Lovelace had said since was ‘as you wish’ whenever Minkowski had told her to do something. Renée had to admit, the silence was wearing on her. She kept grinding her teeth as she sat, writing a report to her superiors in Canaveral City.

Giving in, Minkowski stood up. “Okay,” she said, “lunch. Let’s go eat lunch, Lovelace, and we can come back to this.”

Amusement flickered in Lovelace’s eyes. They usually didn’t eat until considerably later in the day. But all she said was “as you wish.”

The captain walked out of the room first, and, looking after her, Minkowski couldn’t help but notice her grace as she exited.

____

It was a few days later until anything else happened. The women went about their work, and Lovelace was speaking again. That was nice.

One afternoon, Minkowski was preparing to go for a hunt. When she got to the stables however, she found Lovelace there, having just got back from a ride. She looked back at Minkowski when the commander entered, in the process of taking the saddle and bridle off her horse. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, muscles very visible in a red shirt with only straps on the shoulders.

Lovelace smiled. “Hey, Minkowski.”

Minkowski nodded back, finding a lump in her throat when she tried to speak. Lovelace had a lot of very strong muscles.

“What you up to?”

She cleared throat. “Not much. Thought I’d go out and do some hunting.

Lovelace nodded, now using a cloth to wipe off the horse’s flanks. Minkowski tried not to stare as she grabbed another cloth and rubbed it on her neck, strong arms moving smoothly as she made complete eye contact. “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah,” Minkowski said. “Yeah, I hope it will be.”

Lovelace started towards the door, cloth in hand. But as she passed the commander, Minkowski reached out and grasped the taller woman’s arm, spun her around to face her. She had no idea why she did it, only instinct, and the fact that she wanted Lovelace to stay. 

The two stood there for a moment, eyes fixed upon each other’s, caught together like at the eye of a storm. Then Lovelace took a step closer to Minkowski, leaned in, and touched her lips to Minkowski’s own.

A jolt went through Minkowski, fire in her chest. Her eyes closed as Lovelace’s soft lips grasped hers, her head tilting to one side as Lovelace’s strong, callused hands set upon Minkowski’s cheek, her back. Their bodies pressed together, Lovelace’s so warm and strong. Minkowski sighed into the captain’s mouth as their lips and tongues dug deeper into each other.

And then it was over. Too quickly. Lovelace pulled away, surprised brown eyes looking up and down Minkowski’s face, her mouth slightly open. “I-- Commander, I--”

Suddenly, Minkowski started to laugh. A giggle that bubbled up from inside her, then grew and burst into a roaring belly laugh. And Lovelace started to laugh too, the two of them doubling over in the stables, holding onto each other for support.

“You--” Minkowski said through the laughter that didn’t stop coming, “you have no idea-- how long I’ve wanted you to do that.

A fresh bout of giggling came over Lovelace. “I may have some idea.”

“My stomach hurts.”

Lovelace tried to look serious, but failed. She put a hand on Minkowski’s shoulder. “Let’s go inside. We can… talk it over.”

Minkowski nodded, “okay. I’m-- I’m not going to be able to go hunting after this.”

“You’ll scare everything away with how lovesick you are. Come on.”

And Minkowski and Lovelace walked away toward the station, arms around each other, their giggling trailing after them, Minkowski’s cheeks a bright red.

____

The next few months were a happy dream. It turned out Lovelace liked Minkowski as much as the other way around, and though the older woman still drove her crazy sometimes, their life was full of nights under the stars together, rides through the woods filled with banter and laughter, and yes, a lot of kissing. It took a bit of negotiation, because Minkowski was the superior officer, and that was no position to have a relationship in, but one letter to Command, and they found a loophole that gave Lovelace a promotion. Minkowski loved this woman with fire in her heart, honey in her voice, steel in her eyes.

It was a little over a year after that day in the stables when another letter came from Canaveral City. The bottom dropped out of Minkowski’s stomach when she read it, her heart beating rapidly like the wings of a caged bird. Lovelace was being restationed to an outpost on the other side of the country, with a crew of six, and Minkowski was to run their station on her own.

There was no arguing with Command. If Lovelace was stationed elsewhere, she would have to leave. The morning the captain was to go, the two of them stood just outside the station.

Minkowski was trying to hold back tears she embraced her love for what could be the final time. “What if I never see you again?”

“You will.”

“But what if something happens? What if you can’t come back?”

“Renée. Baby. Listen to me. I will come for you.”

“How can you be sure?”

Lovelace chuckled softly, a little sadly. “This is true love. You think this happens every day?”

Minkowski kissed her girlfriend, one more time. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I you.”

Minkowski watched, helpless, as Lovelace picked up her back, mounted her horse, and rode away into the distance.

____

Lovelace didn’t reach her destination. Her ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left a captain alive. When the letter reached Minkowski, her heart broke. She sat in her room for days, with no food or sleep, plotting her revenge against the Pirate Queen.

By the time Command closed down the outpost, which wasn’t productive enough with one person --and the mission was too unimportant to continue-- Minkowski was on a quest to find and kill the woman who had killed her girlfriend. Lovelace was strong, bold, and knew her way around a lot of weapons. Someone who had killed her would clearly have to be skilled. Minkowski became an expert on all pirate mythos, learned the sword and expanded her knowledge of battle strategy. She wasn’t sure what she would find when she faced the Pirate Queen, but she knew she would make Lovelace’s murderer pay.


	2. Five years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goddard’s prince announces a celebration, an unexpected reaction, and a plan.

The crowd was buzzing with noise and anticipation, Canaveral Square packed with citizens. From where Minkowski stood in the shadows, she had a perfect view of the parapet where the royal family would soon stand. The kingdom’s crown prince, Prince Marcus Cutter, would momentarily be out to make a Royal announcement, and the people did not know what to expect. Minkowski stood away from the throng, behind an archway and a pair of guards, but like them, anticipation clawed at her gut, mixing with fear and dread and hope, all boiling inside her like ale gone bad.

Minkowski looked down at the dress she wore. Layers of cream white fabric poofing out from her hips with pale blue trim and inlaid gems that made her feel like a fragile decoration on a mantelpiece. She detested it. Cutter had convinced her into wearing it, or wouldn’t take no for an answer. It’s all about creating an image, he had said, his tone professional and his smile, as usual, unnaturally wide. They want a gentle, lovely woman, so that’s what we’re going to give them! Minkowski had wanted to say that she didn’t want to be seen as a docile creature, and she would rather have a more practical, more intimidating ensemble. But she knew Cutter wouldn’t listen to her, and she couldn’t protest too much if she wanted him to help her get revenge.

Just then, trumpets sounded, and a hush fell over the square. The door at the top of the tower opened, and everyone watched with bated breath. First came two guards, carrying torches even in the light of day. Then the prince’s advisor, a Countess by the name of Pryce, who had pale blonde hair, paler skin, and a terrifying set of electric blue eyes that pierced everything they set upon as if she was considering how best to take that thing, or person, apart. Then the old king, waving to the crowd, and the queen, and finally the prince himself. He surveyed the crowd, dark hair slicked back and smile broad, clothes extravagant and immaculate.

“My people,” he said, voice booming out over the square. “Friends. I’d like to thank you all for coming out today.” Like it wasn’t mandatory for all peasants in the city to attend. “As I’m sure you are all aware, a month from now is the five hundredth anniversary of our great country! It is my privilege to announce that on that evening, after our anniversary celebrations are finished, backlit by the setting sun, I will marry a lady who was once a commoner like yourselves.” There was a murmur through the crowd at this. Goddard has been expecting Cutter to marry for years now, but royal engagements didn’t happen every day. And marriage to a low-born girl -a former science officer, though the crowd didn’t know that- wasn’t what anyone would have pegged Cutter for. Minkowski herself gritted her teeth. There was no going back now, if there ever had been.

The prince himself lifted a hand to placate the crowd. “But perhaps,” he said, “you will not find her common now. My people, my citizens, my friends: the Princess Renée!” And he gestured at the archway where Minkowski was waiting.

The trumpets sounded again, and the guards blocking the archway stepped aside. Minkowski sighed a last, resigned sigh, then stepped forward along the fucking carpet they had prepared for her, roped off from the other citizens. She did her best to look regal, focusing on not tripping on the gown trailing behind her, keeping her head high. She kept her expression blank. She would not fein happiness for this, these poor people had a right to her honesty, if no one else would give them theirs.

Minkowski looked out at the sea of people. There was every type of person there, men and women, young and old, every shape and color, all wearing the clothes and the tired faces of Goddard’s working class, all looking back at her. She hoped she change things for the people when she was princess, then queen. These people specifically. They were quiet as Minkowski stood there, more hushed then they were for Cutter. She was surprised to find a kind of reverence in their gazes.

Then, there was a movement in the crowd. It took Minkowski a moment to realize what was happening. They were _kneeling_. With no instruction or indication, the citizens of Canaveral City were going to their knees for her. All of them, in a great wavelike motion, one row after another. Minkowski’s mouth fell open, taken aback, moved even. Why would they kneel, to _her_ no less?

She raised her eyes, looking up to the tower to meet Cutter’s gaze. He was as surprised as she was, though he tried to conceal it. Minkowski leveled her head to his, set her jaw. She made the people’s trust a challenge.

_____

 

Revenge. That was the most important thing to Minkowski now. It had been, months ago, when the most powerful man in the land had offered her his hand in marriage. It didn’t matter why he wanted her, though it certainly was ominous. 

There was an empty pit inside Minkowski, denser and far more consuming than it had ever been before that wretched day. The only thing that mattered now was finding the person who had killed the love of her life, and making them pay. That’s what Lovelace would do for her, and that was what she was determined to do, no matter what. It was the only thing she could do. 

The Dread Pirate Roberts was not an easy target, however, and contacting the military asking for a foothold was something she’d had to do. She hadn’t expected for it to reach the prince, and she certainly didn’t expect him to take an interest in her. But he had, and, creepy though the guy was, not only could he offer her the only goal she had left, he could also offer her power. Authority, and a place where she could make this country better. But most of all, the resources to find and kill Roberts, and let her do it personally. She couldn’t refuse.


	3. Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new crew enters the scene. Featuring a kidnapping, someone defending a friend, and work being done.

On the coast of Goddard, not far from the country’s capital, a small sailing vessel was coming to shore. The boat had only three occupants, one jumping off to secure the it to the mainland. They had the air of people who had done this countless times before.

The oldest of this crew, and its commander, was a man by the name of Warren Kepler. He had been in service to the throne and to Goddard’s military for quite some years now, and his rank was that of a Colonel. He was around middle age, walked with a swagger, and had a considerable drawl when he spoke. Which was a lot.

The other two crew members were a young woman called Hera, a skilled combatant with a pronounced stutter and a sword at her side; and Doug Eiffel, an engineer who Kepler had hired for his ability to design and build machines that made travel faster. The two had become fast friends in the short time they’d known each other, joking easily, and making excuses to stop the other from getting in trouble with Kepler. It rarely worked.

On the shore, Hera tied the boat to a tree as the other two prepared to spend the next few hours on land. She hopped back onto the deck, then helped Eiffel lift a table onto the wooded shore.

When the table had been set up with food and drink and the boat readied to stay, but leave quickly, Colonel Kepler gathered his small crew. “Alright,” he said, “you know the plan. Eiffel, you got the contraption in place?”

Eiffel nodded. “Yeah, it’s ready to go, sir.”

“Good. She comes by in about an hour, according to Command. Eat quickly, then get in position. I want you ready at least thirty minutes before the Major’s report. Let’s see if you two knuckleheads can’t get your jobs done right.”

____

Roughly an hour later, Minkowski rode through the woods, a lovely stretch where she could see the water through the trees. The forest was silent except for the calls of birds, the lapping of the sea, and her horse’s hoofs against the leaf-strewn ground. She breathed a contented sigh. There was little peace or happiness in her life these days, but the countryside was calm and beautiful, and she found joy in its solitude.

Then, out of nowhere, a rock fell from the branches above. Minkowski felt it collide with the top of her head, hard. She lost consciousness quickly, and her last thought as she slipped off her horse was _so much for serenity._

Hiding in the bushes just behind the ambush spot, Kepler gave the signal. He and Hera ran out, grabbing the princess’s body before she could hit the ground. Hera assessed the damage, and saw the woman’s skull barely had a dent. _Nice work, Eiffel_ she thought, as she made her way back to the ship.

Once she and Eiffel had tied the unconscious princess to the mast, Hera glanced back to the colonel, who had a piece of blue fabric in one hand and the horse’s bridle in the other.

“What’s _th_ at you’re ripping, sir?” Hera asked, as Kepler tore the fabric in two.

Kepler looked up only after setting part of the garment on the lady’s horse. “The uniform of an officer of Nasa.” He said, as if that was obvious.

“Nasa?” Eiffel said, as he secured the princess’s bonds. Hera bit her lip. Kepler didn’t like people not knowing things they were supposed to.

As expected, Colonel Kepler rolled his eyes. “The country across the sea. The enemy of Goddard? You know, Officer Eiffel, the force making this entire mission possible?”

“Right,” said Eiffel, pretending he knew anything but the basic gist of the job. “Of course. Nasa.”

Kepler raised an eyebrow at Eiffel, but didn’t comment. Instead, he slapped the princess’s horse, and watched it run off into the woods, back the way it came. Hera cocked her head to one side, but also didn’t comment.

Kepler turned and headed for the boat. “Once the horse reaches the castle,” he said, feeding into his love of explaining things, “the fabric will make the prince suspect his bride has been kidnapped by Nasa.” Then he grinned, nastily, as he boarded the ship. “Once they find her body dead on Nasa’s shore, his suspicions will be completely confirmed.”

Eiffel’s head shot up. “You never said anything about killing anyone.”

“I’ve hired you to help me start a war.” His drawl was pronounced as he leaned against the ship’s side. “It’s a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.”

Hera’s gut twisted as she and Eiffel made eye contact. True, Hera wasn’t exactly innocent, but if this man _enjoyed_ causing harm…

“That isn’t right,” Eiffel said. “Killing an innocent girl.”

Kepler scoffed, cheeks turning red at the concept of being disagreed with. “Because you’re the most moral of people.” His words growing slower, he advanced on Eiffel, who backed up against the ladder to the foredeck. “Officer Eiffel, when I found you, you were so drunk, incoherent and begging for just one more glass. You’d run away from everything, abandoned your home, and your work, and your little d-”

“I agree with Ei _f_ -fel.” Hera said, in a rare moment bold enough to interrupt. She had seen Eiffel over the course of the last few sentences, shoulders curling in like a shield to guard from Kepler’s last words as he backed up against the wood.

Instead of finishing his sentence, Kepler whirled around, anger and blazing eyes redirected on Hera. _Better_ , Hera thought. Better her than Eiffel. “Oh, the machine has spoken, hasn’t she. What happens to her is nothing of your concern. _I_ will kill the lady, and remember this, Hera-“ Kepler leaned in close, his whiskey-scented breath on her ear, even after Hera had stepped back until she was against the side of the boat. “- when I found you, you were a mess outside a testing facility. You were broken, and I’m the one who has made you useable again.”

Hera’s heart was pounding in her chest when Kepler turned away to cast the ship into motion. She’d had a lot of people throw insults at her, though, so she did her best to shake it off. Ignore it. She walked over to Eiffel.

“Kepler…” she said quietly, “he can b-be a jerk.”

Eiffel pondered this for a moment. “I doubt he has a life outside of work.”

“He pr _obab_ ly doesn’t mean anything.”

“He’s not good at socializing”

“You have a g-gift for rhyme.” 

Eiffel smiled, just a little. “Yeah, some of the time.”

From the tiller, Kepler cut in. “That’s enough.”

Hera ignored him. “Eiffel, are _the_ re rocks ahead?”

“If there are, we’ll be dead.”

Kepler scowled at them. “Stop with the rhymes, I mean it.”

“Anybody want a peanut?”

Hera grinned as Kepler’s groan filled the boat.

____

The only sound was the crashing of the waves and the wind through the sails as Eiffel sat on the floor of the boat. It was dark now, the moon filtering through clouds every so often, and it seemed like days since anything happened. Though it was probably just a few hours. The princess’s body was motionless not far away from him, though Eiffel knew she must’ve been conscious for a while now. He still felt a stab of guilt every time he looked at her.

From where he was sitting against the bow, Colonel Kepler opened his eyes. “We’ll reach the cliffs by dawn,” he said to Hera, who was sitting by the tiller.

Hera nodded understanding. Then she glanced behind her, over the back of the boat into dark water. She’d been doing that every once in a while for an hour or so now. If anyone, Eiffel could understand a nervous habit, and Hera was the type of person who tried to do everything at once.

“Why are you doing that?” Kepler said, annoyed.

“Making sure n- _no_ body’s fol _low_ ing us.”

“That would be inconceivable.” Not technically true, but Eiffel wasn’t about to say anything. Besides, nobody _was_ following them. Probably.

Then a new voice disrupted the silence, determined and gravelly. “Despite what you think, you will be caught.” Apparently the princess was conscious. “And when you are, don’t think I won’t find revenge.”

Kepler gave her a cold stare. “Good luck getting there, Highness. I wouldn’t worry about us if I were you.”

Then Kepler lifted his glare to Hera, who was looking out behind her again. “Stop doing that. You can relax, we’re almost there.”

“Are-are you sure nobod _y_ ’s following us?”

“Like I said, that would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable! No one in Nasa knows what we’re doing, and no one in Goddard could have gotten here so fast.” He laid his head back on the ship’s panels. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”

“No reas _on_ n. It’s j-just, I happened to look beh _ind_ us, and something is there.”

“What?”

Kepler stood up abruptly, and Eiffel followed him. They looked back across the dark water, and after a moment they saw it too. Another sailboat gliding along. It was too dark to make out any flags flown above the sails, or see anyone on board, but the ship was there, black against the sea, and maybe black itself. This was not good news. 

Eiffel looked around, casting about for a suggestion that wasn’t them being followed. “Probably some local fisherman out for a cruise at night.”

Kepler raised an eyebrow. “Through eel infested waters?”

Before they could say anything else, there was a loud splash behind them.

Eiffel, Hera, and Kepler all turned to see the princess landing in the water, starting to swim away from the ship. The ropes that had bound her lay on the ship’s floor, frayed from where a blade had cut them. Eiffel and Hera had forgotten to check her for weapons earlier. Why did the princess have weapons?

There was no time to wonder, however. Kepler was already giving orders, not about to let his quarry go. “Go in, after her!” He barked.

Hera shrugged. “I can’t swim.”

Kepler glared at her, then turned to Eiffel.

“I only dog paddle.”

Kepler let loose a long sigh. Then he turned on Hera. “Veer left. Hard!”

In the water, Minkowski was cutting through the waves, not nearly as fast as she would like. A strange sound cut through the night, a high pitched shrieking that made the hairs that weren’t already standing on end from the frigid sea do so.

“Do you know what that sound is, your Highness?” On the boat, Colonel Kepler leaned over the railing, loud enough to be heard over the sea and the shrieks. “Those are the Shrieking Eels.”

Eiffel saw the princess stop moving forward, treading water.

“If you don’t believe me, just stay there. They always grow louder when they’re about to feast on a human.”

The sound did seem to be growing louder as the seconds ticked on. Eiffel’s knuckles were growing pale from gripping the railing. The princess kept treading water.

“If you swim back now, I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt the eels will be so generous.”

Minkowski saw something slither by her in the water. It was huge, black and grey scales glinting in the moonlight. The shrieking was deafening, she could barely hear her own panicked breathing. Her knife was in her hand, but what good would it be?

The beast surfaced again, closer this time. She saw a fin rise above the water, then fall back under.

And then the thing charged right at Minkowski. She saw its shining scales in a rainbow of darkness, the thickness of a good sized tree trunk. It opened its mouth, layers upon layers of sword-sharp teeth, releasing a scream that came straight from the depths of hell. She held out her knife as it glided toward her, knowing the blade wouldn’t be of much help. This was it, she was going to die. She’d never be able to avenge Lovelace. Minkowski had failed her love, and she’d been so damned close. All because of some idiot mercenaries and a big old-

A hand grabbed the back of Minkowski’s jacket. She felt herself being lifted out of the water, away from the jaws of death. She felt the knife being ripped from her hand, and her drenched body deposited roughly back onto the boat’s floor. The man with the curly hair looked at her with concerned eyes from behind his captain, who now loomed over her.

The girl with the dreadlocks pointed out over the stern. “I t _hin_ k they’re getting closer.”

Commander Asshole waved her off, tying Minkowski’s hands together. “I don’t care. Sail on.” Minkowski wanted to fight him off, but she felt drained, exhausted from the encounter with the eel. She was too tired to make her limbs move.

The man with the drawling voice and shiny badges met Minkowski’s glare coldly. “I suppose you think you’re brave, after that little stunt.”

Minkowski didn’t blink. She didn’t think much of this man. “Only compared to some.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a lot of fun with this! The next chapter will come out in two weeks so I can stay on top of things. Fight scenes are harder to write than I expected. Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments, you are so sweet!


	4. The Cliffs of Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The black sailboat catches up to Kepler’s crew. Featuring an Up-Machine, a story, and a duel.

The other boat was closing in on them, there was no doubt about it. It was, as Eiffel had guessed, painted black with black sails, stark against the dawning sky. It had been following them nearly all night, since before Hera had noticed it. There was one figure on board, dressed in all black, a silhouette even in the daylight.

When Eiffel brought this up to Kepler, the Colonel only chuckled. “Whoever it is, he’s too late.” He gestured ahead, and Eiffel turned to see a great wall of rock coming closer. The cliff was huge, towering above them, the shapes of buildings at its top only vague concepts.“The Cliffs of Insanity, ladies and gentleman. We’ve made it.”

As Kepler gave Hera orders to sail faster, aiming for a certain spot along the cliffs, Eiffel prepared his contraption for scaling the thing. It would have to be ready soon if someone was on their tail.

When they reached a shelf of rock jutting out from the sea, a rope dangling down the cliffside, Kepler carried the princess --now blindfolded and unconscious-- off the boat. The other two followed, Hera helping Eiffel with the big wooden box. They set it up, securing it to the rope, then waited for the Colonel to step in.

“This thing of yours better work, officer,” said Kepler.

“It will, sir.” _He hoped._

It was cramped and stuffy inside the big wooden box. He and Hera took their places by the end of the rope with the weight on the bottom, and began to pull. “I call it the Up-Machine.”

Hera raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s _st_ upid. How about the Elevator? Because, _you kn_ ow, it elevates?”

Eiffel shrugged. “I guess that does sound cooler.”

Kepler laughed as they rose off the ground, all huddled together in a wooden box. Outside the hole cut to be the door, they could see a figure jump off the black sailed boat, now docked just behind theirs. Whoever it was moved gracefully, clothed entirely in black, with a mask covering their face. “We’re safe,” said Kepler, “he doesn’t have one of your crazy contraptions. He’ll have to sail around for hours to find a harbor.”

Neither Eiffel nor Hera responded. They were too busy with the weight of the rope that held all their lives.

Then that weight grew heavier. Abruptly, not just with the gradual insistence of gravity pulling them down to Earth. There was no explanation for the change, not until Hera looked out the door. “My god,” she said, voice a whisper, “they’re c _limb_ ing the rope.”

Eiffel glanced down, and his stomach dropped. Not only was the ground steadily farther away, Hera was right. The black-clad figure had grabbed the rope, and in addition to being taken upwards by Hera and Eiffel’s hands, they pulled themselves up, gaining on the Elevator.

“Inconceivable,” breathed Kepler.

Kepler waved Eiffel and Hera to move faster as the figure drew closer. Eiffel thought the muttered threats and cursing were hardly fair, he and Hera had five people and an elevator, and the person had only themself. Plus, however fast they moved, the person would be lifted up at the same rate.

The cliffside was agonizingly long, and Eiffel’s arms ached as they moved upward, and the black figure drew closer.

There. They reached the top, relief flooding Eiffel’s body. He and Hera climbed out and hauled the box onto the mainland. The area was a ruined courtyard, stone archways and walls built up, but there was no time for Eiffel to look around. When he looked down, the person still climbed the rope, moving faster than seemed possible.

Kepler drew his knife, making for the rope coiled around a metal anchor. He began sawing at it, trying to send their pursuer to the unforgiving shore below. Eiffel started toward him, he didn’t want the person to die, but a look from Hera held him back.

After a tense moment of the rope fraying but not breaking, time ticking on, the figure drawing closer, the Colonel made it through. The rope dropped to the ground, then gravity pulled it, slithering, off the drop.

Eiffel, Hera, and Kepler rushed to the edge, checking to see if Kepler had been successful. But instead of seeing their pursuer splattered far below, they clung to the side of the cliff, less than a hundred feet below.

“They have a very good arm,” Eiffel said to Hera.

Kepler looked at both of them, stunned. “He didn’t fall? Inconceivable.”

Hera turned to the Colonel. “You k-keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you t _hink it_ means.” Then she looked back at the cliffside, and gasped. “G _od_! They’re climbing.”

They were. The figure in black was slowly making their way upwards, hand and foot up the rock toward the party.

“Whoever it is, they’ve obviously seen us with the princess and must therefore die.” Kepler said, all business once again. “Eiffel, carry her. Hera, we’ll head straight to the Nasa frontier. Catch up with us when he’s dead. If he falls, fine, if not, your sword.”

Hera nodded. “I’m-’m going to do them right-handed.”

“We have to move quickly.”

“Otherwise I won’t be _sat_ isfied.”

Kepler shrugged. “Fine. Don’t take too long.”

Eiffel knew he couldn’t convince Kepler or Hera to spare the person, but before the three of them left, he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Be careful. People in masks can’t be trusted.”

“Thanks, Eiffel.”

“I’m waiting,” Kepler barked.

Eiffel left with the Colonel, carrying the unconscious lady. He glanced back to see Hera standing there, sword in hand, looking utterly alone.

____

Hera was not exactly patient. At a closer look, the person hanging off of the cliff was a woman, skin just a bit darker than her own dripping with sweat, young but still older than Hera. She was making her way slowly, so slowly, up the cliff. 

Hera took a deep breath, then spoke, loud enough for the woman to hear her. “H _ey_ there.”

The lady looked up, nodded.

“S-slow going?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be rude, but this isn’t as easy as it looks, so it’d be great if you didn’t distract me.”

It didn’t look easy at all to Hera. “Sorry.”

Hera walked a bit away, not sure what to do with the extra time. She looked around the area again, crumbling rocks of a courtyard with sand covering the ground, steps up to a plaza that overlooked the sea, a great pile of rock and growth in the middle. She’d already walked the courtyard several times, pacing.

Hera drew her sword, tossed it to her right hand, practiced sparring with the air. It wasn’t very interesting. She knew fencing like the back of her hand, she’d trained, studied, worked hard at it for nearly ten years, combat and strategy the only things on her mind.

Then she headed back to the edge. “How long do-you thi _nk_ you’re going to be?” She didn’t mean to be rude either, but, God was she impatient.

The lady in black glared at her. “If you care so much, why don’t you lower a rope or that box or find some way to help.”

“I would l-love to do that. There’s some rope here, but I _don_ ’t think you would wa _nt_ my help. My job here is to k-kill you.”

The woman just nodded, finding another place to put her hand. “That does put a damper on our relationship.”

Hera would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. “But, I promise I won’t kill you u _ntil_ you reach the t-top.”

“Very comforting, kid. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.”

“I hate waiting.” Hera turned to go, then thought of something else. “I’ll give you my word as a sch-olar?”

The lady lifted herself another few inches. “No good. I’ve known too many scholars.”

“Is _there_ any way you’ll t-trust me?”

“Nothing comes to mind.”

Hera took a deep breath, then stared into the eyes of this woman she had just met. “I s _wear_ on my soul and my sanity, my n-name and my mortality, you _will_ reach the top alive.

The woman on the side of the cliff cocked her head to one side. “Throw me the rope.”

Hera did. The woman was heavy, much bigger than Hera herself, but years of training hadn’t done nothing for her strength, and the woman kicked at the rock with strong legs.

“Thank you.” Once she was standing, the lady reached for her sword, but Hera held out a hand.

“W-w-wait until you’re ready.” Hera didn’t want to force her to fight right after climbing a mile-long cliff. It wouldn’t be fair.

“Again, thanks.” She re-sheathed her sword, then sat down on a nearby rock. She took of her long black boots and shook them out, pebbles and sand falling out onto the shore.

Hera studied her. The woman was tall, lithe. Her hair was covered by the same fabric as her mask, tucked into her shirt, but Hera saw tightly-coiled dark hair falling down the back of her neck. Her brown arms were muscled and visibly strong, her eyes in shadow.

Hera resolved to ask her question. It was a long shot, a very long one, but she did know people who could change their appearances, fake identities and histories. “This is an odd qu _est_ ion, and I d-don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but do you happen to be ab-able to take out your eyes?”

The woman looked at her, very confused. “Do you start conversations this way often?”

“I al-almost died at the hand of a w _om_ an who could do-that.”

The lady sighed, then held up a hand to her face. She put her fingers below her eyes (it turned out they were a light brown), and pulled. The eyeball stayed in place. “Okay. Now you owe me an explanation.”

Oh. Hera hadn’t thought of that. But she was here now, and she might as well try to explain herself. It took a few moments for Hera to speak. “When I was a c _hild_ , I grew up at a testing facility near Goddard’s cap-capital. I wasn’t the only one, other people _liv_ ed there too, others like _me_.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “There was this one d _oct_ or who worked on us a lot. She was b-brilliant, cold and beautiful, and she had re _pla_ ced parts of her body, reengi _neer_ ed herself to be stronger. She-she had these terrifying bright blue eyes that she could take out. I once saw a wh _ole_ drawer she had of them. She wasn’t kind, but she didn’t usually g-go out of her w _ay_ to be cruel like some of the others on the staff.

One day, I tried to b-break out of the lab. I wanted to be free so _bad_ ly, and I was r _eck_ less enough to t-try. I m _ade_ it, too, I got out of the building, the ca-campus. Of course, they caught me before I’d gotten a h _un_ d _red_ feet.

After that, they p-put me in a lab by my _sel_ f. That d _oct_ or started having more s-sessions with me, one-on-one, a _ski_ ng me personal questions and telling me things. Some of them were t-true, some of them we _re_ n’t. I don’t re _mem_ ber a lot of it, honestly, I think that k-kind of thing will do that to you. But d that time, she kind of g-got inside my head, con _vinc_ ed me that I was less than a p-person, that I _could never be good enough._ ” Hera was breathing hard. The only other person she’d told this to was Eiffel, and now she was telling it to a stranger. Maybe that was easier, somehow.

The woman in black just looked at Hera, emotion in her eyes. Pity probably. Goddamn pity. “How did you get out?”

“They l _et_ me go one d-day.” Hera kicked at a rock on the ground. “Ap _parr_ ently I wasn’t useful to them any _more_.”

Then she looked into the woman’s eyes, fire returning. “So _I_ ’m going to get revenge. Ever s-since I got out, I’ve been studying c-combat, strat _eg_ y. I’m going to find that _wom_ an, destroy h-her. I will say, “hello. My name is Hera. You h _ave_ made me suffer. Prepare to p-pay.”

This hung in the air for a moment. “I respect that.” The woman tilted her head to one side. “What’s up with kidnapping the princess then?”

Hera shrugged. “Money, m _os_ tly. I’ve been l-looking for the doctor for ten y _ears_ now, and haven’t found her _ye_ t. Working for Kepler isn’t the best j-job ever, but it pays the b _ill_ s.”

“Huh.” She said, standing up, “well, I hope you find her someday.”

“Thanks, yo-you’re not the only one.” Hera stood up as well. “You’re re _ady_ y then?”

“You’ve been more than fair, kid. I’m ready.”

Hera bristled at being called ‘kid’, but she supposed it was accurate. She drew her sword and backed up to a fair sparring distance. “You seem p _ret_ ty decent. I ha-hate to kill you.”

“You seem pretty decent,” the woman reciprocated. “I hate to die.”

Hera had to smother a laugh. “Oh! O _ne_ more thing. I’ve b-been ca _lli_ ng you ‘the woman’ in m-my head this whole time and it’s getting _reall_ y annoying. Who are you?”

The woman shrugged. “I’m a captain.”

“That’s all you’re going to te-tell me?”

 

“That’s all.”

Hera sighed. She supposed that was a start, and identities _were_ valuable things. “Let’s g _et_ started then.”

The rising sun glinted off the two swords as Hera countered the Captain’s initial attack. Hera feigned, but the Captain’s movements mirrored hers perfectly. She was good, Hera realized as they sparred, getting a feel for each other’s style. Quick, so being smaller wouldn’t give Hera much of an advantage. This was a very competent opponent.

Then the teasing was over. The Captain advanced with dance-like movements, each stroke met with the sound of ringing steel as the younger girl deflected them. Hera tried to get under her guard, twist the Captain’s own movements against her, but she couldn’t find any chinks in the woman in black’s armor.

Their swords met again and again, neither of them getting more than a scratch on each other. Hera was able to gain the advantage, pushing the Captain slowly towards the wall, then she lost it to the taller woman leaping onto a pile of rock and getting a good angle on Hera’s head. She was an excellent swordswoman, though her techniques weren’t quite by the book. She was harder to predict than other opponents, and Hera’s excitement mounted as they climbed up the outcropping of rock in the center of the courtyard.

She pushed the older woman up the small hill, deflecting blows left and right, grinning. When they reached the end of the rocks, the Captain was forced to jump down onto the ground, launching herself away from Hera. In a moment of daring, Hera joined the Captain on the sandy ground by doing a frontflip in the air that landed her exactly where she wanted to be.

“Surrender?” Hera asked when she had found her footing on the ground again.

The Captain only smirked, advancing with a flurry of quick, sharp movements. “Nah. Why?” She led girl back around the rock pile. “Don’t want to keep going?”

 

“No _thing_ -” Hera deflected another blow aimed at her ribs “-of _the_ sort.”

The Captain chuckled, taking back the upper hand with her skilled precision, pushing Hera steadily back toward the ledge they’d climbed up the cliff from.

“I admit it, you are b-better thann me,” Hera said, still thrilled, when her feet were almost kicking dust off the cliff.

“Then why’re you smiling?”

“Because I-” Hera paused for dramatic effect, though the moment cost her another inch “-am not _ri_ ght handed!”

The Captain stepped back for a moment, politely, and Hera tossed her sword lightly into her dominant hand, gave it a few preparatory swings.

When their swords clashed again, it was clear Hera was the better fighter. The Captain wasn’t without skill, but she found herself steadily losing ground, barely or not at all avoiding swings to Hera’s ten years of dedication. 

Hera climbed up the steps to the small raised plaza, which she guessed could be a good place to corner the woman in black.

Indeed, there was low stone wall overlooking the sea that Hera pushed the Captain against. Her opponent was stronger than her, sure, but that wasn’t too much of an advantage when your legs were pressing up against crumbling stone and you have to ward off a blade a tiny girl was swinging a your face.

“There’s something,” the Captain panted as she leaned back over the edge, “I ought to tell you.”

“Tell me,” Hera said, her dreadlocked hair blowing in her face and getting in the way of her vision.

The Captain stopped leaning back, stopped panting. “I’m not left handed either.”

As the Captain had done for her, Hera stepped back and let the older woman switch her weapon hand.

They were evenly matched again, dueling along the plaza. The Captain was maybe just a bit better, but Hera wasn’t going to admit that. It got a little harder to avoid that fact, though, when the taller woman knocked Hera’s sword out of her hand and down to the sand below.

Hera left up her hands, sweat plastering some of her hair to her face. The Captain didn’t attack. There was a archway over the steps to the ground, a weathered rope that may once have held a curtain suspended across it. Hera jumped toward it, grabbed the rope and swung out. She let go, arced through the air, and landed not far from her sword. She picked it up and faced her opponent again.

The Captain tossed her sword down to the ground, where it lodged with a thunk in a patch of grass. She took a running leap at the rope, grabbed it, and spun all the way around it in the air before letting go and landing on her feet right next to her sword.

“Show _of_ f,” Hera said.

The Captain only shrugged.

Their swords clashed again, fiercely attacking and parrying and nearly dancing around the courtyard. Hera was getting tired, the onslaught of blows couldn’t go on forever, could it?

Her attacks grew wilder, swinging her sword around techniquelessly, hoping to catch the Captain.

But then the Captain knocked Hera’s sword out of her hand with such force the younger girl fell to her knees. Hera was dazed, her hand stinging where her weapon had left her. She waited for death.

“I would sooner destroy a stained-glass window than yourself,” the Captain said. Oh. She wasn’t going to die then? “But since I can’t have you following me either,” Hera heard a rush of air, and felt the flat edge of a sword hit her head, hard. The last thing she knew was the ground rushing toward her, the thump and slight pain on the gritty dirt, then only blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I kind of forgot about time being a thing, and procrastinated anyway. Thanks everybody for reading!


	5. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain continues on. Rocks are thrown, someone follows a trail, and a game is won.

The Captain slowed to a walk as she rounded the corner, coming across a cluster of boulders that jutted out of the hillside. They were big, twice her size or more, covered in moss and lichen, but the most direct way up to the top was straight through them. Plenty of places to hide, not enough cover for someone walking by.

Even as she thought this, a rock fell, hard, on the ground where she would have been standing had she taken another two steps. It had fell from a wire suspended between two tall boulders, and was large enough to knock her out, if not kill her. She drew her sword, turning to look for whoever had triggered the thing.

The Captain didn’t have to look far, however. A figure stepped out from the shadows, hands raised in surrender. A man, she guessed, with curly hair just over his ears, light brown skin, and dark stubble covering his jaw. He was taller than she was, but not by much.

“Hey,” he said, waving with one of his empty hands. “Hail and well met.”

The Captain nodded by way of greeting. She didn’t lower her sword.

“My name’s Eiffel,” said the man, “and I did that on purpose. I could have killed you with that rock.”

The Captain nodded again. “Alright. Thank you for, you know, not doing that.”

“Sure. So…” Eiffel said, holding a hand out conversationally. “Look, lady, I don’t want to kill you. But, I can’t exactly have you following us either. I know this is a big ask, but otherwise I’ll have to do my job description and literally murder you, so would you kindly turn around and leave?”

She considered the man for a moment. He was an interesting one. 

Then the Captain shook her head. “Nope. No deal. Sorry Mr… Eiffel, but my mission is a little more important than doing a favor for a mercenary who doesn’t want to kill.”

“And what is your mission?”

“Nice try.”

Eiffel shrugged. “Worth a shot, I guess.” Then he took a step toward the Captain and lowered his voice. “You didn’t kill Hera, did you?” There was real concern in his face.

“Your friend back there?” The Captain was surprised by the change of subject. “No, she’s fine, she’ll be awake in twenty minutes or so now.”

“Okay, good.” Relief filled Eiffel’s voice. “In that case, are you any good at wrestling?”

“Yes.” Where was this going? “You want to strangle me instead of bashing my head in with a rock?”

“Not exactly,” Eiffel said. “Put down your sword. I was thinking more of fistfighting, actually. Let’s spar.”

The Captain shrugged. Hand fighting wasn’t fencing, but she wasn’t bad at it either. This man, however, looked like someone who’d wrestled with his dad as a kid and not much after that. She set down her sword and kicked it out of the way.

“Okay,” Eiffel said, “let’s start.”

She had him out in less than thirty seconds. Apparently he’s been about as physically strong as she’d expected, so she laid him out in the shade of the rocks and wished him sweet dreams. The Captain continued on.

____

In the ruined courtyard above the cliffs, the prince stood with a countess and his guard. He paced along the sand and dirt, over the rocks and up and down the higher plaza, tracing the footprints of two women. When he was finished, he turned to Countess Pryce.

“They were both excellent. Whoever our quarry is, they are surely skilled.”

The woman on her horse raised an eyebrow, her blonde hair blowing in the wind. “And? How did it end? Who won?”

Prince Cutter looked down at the sand again. “The loser ran off alone, out along the cliff. The winner followed those footprints towards Houston.”

“Shall we track them both?”

“No, no Miranda. The loser is nothing.”

Then Cutter turned to face his guard, resuming his professional manner. “Clearly Nasa is at fault here. We must find the princess, then show them our… displeasure. This will not be tolerated.”

____

At the top of the hill, the Captain found her quarry.

The man was sitting on the ground, in front of a small wooden table, holding a knife to an unconscious Princess Minkowski’s throat. Apparently he had known he couldn’t outrun the Captain, and had prepared accordingly. Smart. Still, the sight of the princess bound and helpless on the ground next to him made her fists clench.

“So,” The man said, his voice lazy and low, “it is down to you, and it is down to me.” He was tall, pale, with hair graying at the temples, wearing a black and orange jacket with medals and badges on the chest. Kepler, the Captain remembered the girl Hera saying.

She held up her hands, though she didn’t stop moving toward him.

“I imagine you’re here for the princess,” he said, tone conversational.

“You imagine correctly. There’s a few things I’d like to discuss.”

Kepler chuckled softly. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen.”

Sure, sure. Rightfully stolen. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?”

“Perhaps.” He tapped his chin, in thought, or imitation of it. “Do you like chess?”

“Chess?”

“Chess. You? Me? Now?”

“For the princess?” She was good at chess, though this wasn’t what she’d expected.

“Yes.” Kepler pulled out a chess board from under the table. Who just carries around a chess board?

He gestured for the Captain to sit. “Would you prefer black or white?”

She sat down. “Um-“

“No? I’ll take white then.” Of course he would. Without letting go of the knife held to the princess’s throat, Kepler began to set up the pieces.

“So,” said the Captain, trying to make conversation, “what brings you out here with a hostage?”

“Business.”

“Business that involves a girl’s life?”

Kepler moved a pawn forward. “Yes. I imagine you’re well versed in that, my good lady?”

The Captain took her turn, teeth clenching at ‘my good lady’. There was no world in which she was his in any sense. “I wouldn’t be so quick to assume.”

A few moments of silence passed as they got the game going. Kepler was good, the Captain noted, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

“How did you take out my crew?”

The Captain had the impression he knew already, but she shrugged, finding a better place for her bishop. “Sword, fists. They’re very nice people, you’re lucky to have them.”

“Lucky to have an incompetent crew,” He muttered. “You didn’t have any qualms about killing them though, did you?”

“Killing them? No, I didn’t kill them. The girl should be awake already, and I’d give Eiffel maybe an hour.”

Kepler made a noise of surprise. “Quite a little hero, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” the Captain said. She wasn’t little, either.

Another moment as they played. Kepler took a rook.

The Captain saw Princess Minkowski stir on the other side of the table. Kepler’s knife was on the ground now, his focus on the game. She had to keep him preoccupied.

“I’m interested in who would hire an officer of your caliber. Surely stealth sea voyages aren’t handed out to just anyone. Who are you?” Flattery seemed a good strategy for a man like this.

“Come now, you don’t think I’d reveal my identity that easily.”

“Not even if I asked you really nicely?”

“I’m important, that’s all,” said Kepler.

“Hi important, I’m dad.”

Kepler chuckled.

The Captain moved her queen. “Check, sir.”

“I, however am interested in you. A lone sailor in a black mask hunting down a princess? Care to tell me who you are?”

“I’m a lesbian. Check.”

“Why do you want the princess?” She saw him pick up the knife again.

“Why do you?”

“There are a lot of secrets out here, ma’am. Could you spare a few on me?”

“And that’s checkmate. Good game.”

Kepler sighed. He grabbed the princess’s shoulder. But, instead of leading her over to the Captain, he raised the knife and plunged it towards her throat.

“No!” The Captain was on her feet, reaching across the table. There wasn’t enough time.

It was Princess Minkowski who caught the knife’s handle in midair with hands she’d freed during the chess match. Time seemed to slow as she wrenched it from Kepler’s grasp, and brought the blade down into the man’s chest.


	6. Dread Pirate Roberts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Space is traveled, a long-awaited confrontation is made, and an identity is revealed.

Minkowski and the Captain stared at each other, unmoving. The big man’s blood poured out on the ground, his breaths coming in surprised, grating gasps. Minkowski pulled the knife out of his chest, and he slumped to the ground. He wasn’t dead, not yet, but he would be before long. She turned to the woman in black, this strange person who had chased them miles to find her. Why?

But before she could ask any questions, the Captain came around to Minkowski, grabbed her hand. “We need to go.” 

The woman’s voice was low, urgent, but her eyes under the dark mask were kind. The deep brown of them, combined with the grace of her movements caused an ache in Minkowski’s chest, a pang from the hole that had been gnawing at her for years. But no, she was imagining things. She was good at that, for months after it happened any curly-haired stranger made her look up in impossible hope. This was no different. Even though this woman’s resemblance was striking. She would probably take off her mask later to reveal a nose too small, or eyes too thin or a smile too straight. It would be undeniable that Minkowski’s heart was just playing tricks on her again.

Minkowski just nodded. Staying around someone you murdered was never a good idea. And though she may just be changing captors here, she would much prefer someone who didn’t bind her wrists again, even if the Captain did take away the knife. She couldn’t trust this woman, couldn’t pass up any opportunity to escape (in the open landscape escape wouldn’t work unless the Captain got distracted by something _really_ big), but she was still glad she was no longer in the hands of Warren Kepler.

They ran along the hills, past twisting trees and across lichen-spotted rocks. But when they reached a shady spot far enough, apparently, from where they had been, the Captain stopped, let Minkowski go.

“Catch your breath,” the Captain said, voice colder than before.

Minkowski was indeed breathing hard as she leaned against a rock, but she tried not to let it show. “What do you want?” She packed ferocity into her words. “Whatever it is, I promise you won’t get it.”

The woman in black laughed. “The promise of a princess. How quaint.”

Minkowski gritted her teeth. “I’m not a princess yet. And I wouldn’t be so dismissive if I were you. I might be under your thumb now, but Prince Cutter is very, very good at what he does. He will find you, and we will seek retribution.”

“You think your true love will save you?”

Minkowski’s nose wrinkled. “He isn’t my true love. And, yes, I know he’ll save me.”

The Captain’s head tilted in surprise, a gesture so familiar it made Minkowski’s heart hurt. “You admit you don’t love your fiance?” She seemed oddly pleased by that.

“I’ve never loved him.”

“You could never love is what you mean.” The Captain’s voice had suddenly become a growl.

Minkowski stepped towards the woman in black, staring into her unfairly pretty eyes, drawing herself up. “I have loved more deeply than a kidnapper like you could ever dream.”

The Captain’s raised a fist, eyes flashing. Minkowski didn’t back down.

Her hand lowered, and she pointed a finger in the shorter woman’s face instead. “That was a warning. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving of obtuse lies.”

Minkowski raised an eyebrow, and they continued on.

____

Behind them, Cutter and his entourage had reached the hilltop where Kepler’s body and the chess board lay. The Colonel’s body was still now, and a huge puddle of blood now surrounded him.

The prince had already found Eiffel, for one of the guards carried the bag full of gadgets that had once been the man’s.

Prince Cutter looked around, it wasn’t hard to guess what happened here. The winner of the game must have killed the Colonel, he thought. Unless Renée had. It didn’t matter either way, not now. He gave orders to his men too collect Colonel Kepler’s body, and continued on, after the footprints of two women on the rocky ground.

____

At this point, Minkowski had had enough. She’d seen the clues, and so, on top of a hill overlooking a vast forest, she stopped. The Captain tried to pull Minkowski forward, but it wasn’t hard for the shorter woman to hold her ground. 

She glared at the Captain, drew herself up. “You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, aren’t you?”

The Captain’s eyes flickered in surprise, but it only took a second for her to smile, take a little bow. “At your service, m’lady. What can I do for you?”

Minkowski’s heart rose up in her chest, fire gathering behind her eyes. “You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.” She was going to kill this woman, without the Prince’s help or anyone’s. Without a bow or a knife, if she couldn’t snatch the Captain’s. Just her bare hands and her will.

Roberts just cocked her head. “Hardly complimentary, your Highness. Why hate me so?”

Minkowski felt hatred gathering inside her. All those years of anger, and grief, and revenge sworn out loud to a dark room, coming together to form this moment, this rage that would climax in a moment of violence, and then be over. At least for now. “You killed my love.”

For a moment, she thought she saw something in Roberts’s face, shock, or surprise, or even, regret. Then it was gone and Minkowski didn’t know if it had been there at all.

The Captain put her hands behind her back, nonchalant. “It’s possible. I kill a lot of people.” Then a note of anger came into her own voice. “Who was this love of yours? Another prince, or a bureaucrat? A cowardly rich man with no interesting bone in his body?”

“No.” Minkowski said. “A colleague of mine, a friend, if you must know. She was the best woman you’d ever meet, strong and brave and smart, her laugh was the most beautiful sound in the world.” She shook herself. This was no time to get lost in memories. “You attacked her ship on the high seas. The Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.”

The Pirate Queen just shrugged. “I can’t afford to make exceptions. I do have a reputation to uphold, and once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

“You mock my pain!” Minkowski lunged at the Captain, reaching for her throat, but Roberts dodged out of the way. She caught Minkowski’s hands behind her back, held her still.

Roberts pushed Minkowski onto the ground. “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.” Minkowski jumped back to her feet, glaring daggers at the Captain, but the taller woman held up a hand, and something inside Minkowski made her stop.

“I remember this girl of yours, I think,” said the pirate, and Minkowski’s gaze snapped from the knife she was trying to figure out how to steal to the Captain’s face. “This would be, about, five years ago?”

Minkowski nodded.

Roberts’ face softened, just a little. “She died well, if it’s any consolation. No bribe attempts, no begging. She asked me, quietly, to let her live, that she needed to. I asked her why that was. ‘True love’ she said.”

“She told me of a girl of beauty and loyalty and determination, I suppose she meant you.” The Captain chuckled humorlessly at the memory. “You should thank me that she never found out what you are.”

Minkowski sneered. How dare this woman, this murderer, judge Minkowski? “And what am I?” She was going to get her revenge, but she was going to finish this damned conversation first. The Dread Pirate Roberts wanted to have it out with her? Good.

Fire flashed in Roberts’ eyes. “Loyalty, she spoke of, your loyalty and faithfulness, your all-enduring love. Tell me, did you get engaged to that snake of a prince that same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?”

“How dare you?!” Screw it. Minkowski lunged at Roberts again, this time fast and hard enough to knock the woman to the ground. The Captain fought, trying to wrestle the shorter woman off of her, but Minkowski pinned Roberts down with her knees. This was it. She had wrestled the Dread Pirate Roberts to the ground, had her helpless under her. “I died that day,” Minkowski whispered, icy steel in her voice. She wrapped her hands around Roberts’ throat, started to squeeze. “And now it’s your turn.”

But there was still air in the Captain’s lungs when the Pirate Queen gasped out three simple words, a faint smile on her face. “As… you… wish.”

Minkowski stopped dead. There was only one person who knew what that phrase meant in relation to her. One person who she’d been thinking off all day, who the woman underneath her looked oddly like.

Minkowski reached up and tore the mask from Roberts’ face.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, so quiet Minkowski herself could barely hear it.

It was Lovelace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I hope you all are enjoying this, especially now that things are heating up

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series, I'm hoping to get through the whole movie. Chapters once a week for the ones I have written, then every two weeks after that.


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